


Lesson in Sacrifice

by dragonwriter24cmf



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alien Cultural Differences, Angst, Consequences, Gen, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Partial Nudity, The Doctor is Hurt (Doctor Who), Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-15
Updated: 2020-01-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:33:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22271899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonwriter24cmf/pseuds/dragonwriter24cmf
Summary: Bill really should have thought to ask more questions before attending a celebration on another world. But when her actions have unintended - and serious - consequences, can she handle it? Especially when the Doctor is the one who takes the fall?
Comments: 2
Kudos: 39





	Lesson in Sacrifice

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: All characters belong to the creators of Doctor Who.

**A Lesson in Sacrifice**

It happened so fast.

She’d come to the Doctor’s office, like always. They’d been talking about the impending New Year’s celebrations. He hadn’t much cared, but he had offered to show her how other cultures celebrated the turning of the years. And of course, he hadn’t meant any culture on Earth, because he assumed she could study those on her own. Nope, he’d tugged her on board the TARDIS and whisked her off to a strange new land.

And it had been fun at first. The locals were friendly enough folk. The Doctor had produced some bits and bobs (they looked like spare parts, but what did she know) to trade for things, and they’d wandered around having a grand old time. Everything seemed to be pretty free, from what she could see. People swapping random items and picking up things and what-not. Even the Doctor.

Everything had been going well, right up until the time she’d taken a step away to get out of the crowd for a moment. She liked a party as much as the next girl, but she also liked a breather or two. So she’d found a clear space, up next to some fancy table with a couple guys in pretty outfits, and stopped to take a breath.

About then, she’d realized she was hungry. Hadn’t had a chance for supper, being whisked off her feet like that.

There was a pretty little cake sitting on the surface nearby. Looked about right for a snack. And the Doctor had assured her earlier, when they both grabbed drinks, that the food here was compatible with a human. After all, what was the point of bringing her to a celebration where she couldn’t properly celebrate?

So, she’d thought, why not grab a bite of the cake? She’d leave a bit or something there to pay for it, and if she didn’t leave enough, she’d call the Doctor over and have him sort it. After all, he was supposed to be her teacher. It was his fault if she didn’t have the proper resources, yeah?

And so she’d picked up the little cake and taken a large bite. And it was delicious. Unfortunately, she hadn’t had time for a second bite. The men had immediately grabbed very functional looking weapons and pointed them at her. She’d frozen stiff. One of the men had snarled “Defiler!” at her. Whatever that meant.

She’d done the only thing she knew to do. Shouted for her teacher. “Doctor!”

To his credit, he’d come running from wherever he’d been in the crowd, and insisted on accompanying them as the men, guards it seemed, had begun marching her away from the now silent and disapproving crowd.

Which led to where they were now, being led into a large building that had the austere look of either a courthouse or a church (funny how most buildings in the universe that served those two functions had something of the same feel to them).

The guards led them to a room, and one of them rang a heavy gong. A man appeared, and the guard spoke to him. She couldn’t hear the words, but the Doctor could, judging from the way he stiffened.

The guards left them, locking the doors securely with a click that even she could hear. The minute they did, the Doctor turned to her. “Bill, we haven’t a lot of time. Tell me exactly what happened.”

“I went to take a break, grab some air. Stopped by that big fancy table. I was feeling a bit hungry, so I grabbed a cake. I mean, they seemed pretty calm about food and all, figured I’d pay for it, or get you to help me. Didn’t think there was anything wrong with it. I mean, we’ve been swapping things and pretty casual ever since we got here, and no one said anything!”

“You took a cake off the table? The long flat one decorated with all the garlands and objects and such, near the front of the square?” His eyes were sharp, intense, and just a little bit scary.

“Yeah.”

“Not good. Not good at all.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Bill, that table was an altar, with the gifts for the gods as thanks for a good year and prayers for a prosperous new one. Everything on that table was sacred. By eating the cake, you’ve effectively desecrated a sacred gift to the gods.”

She gulped. “Oh bloody...well, can’t we buy a new cake or something, replace it? A better one even. Or two cakes, or something from the TARDIS? You’re always goin’ on about that brandy that’s as old as the universe...”

“Everything given as an offering is made from scratch, by hand. One of a kind. The crafters are chosen carefully, the best in their respective skills, and each offering is meant to be the pinnacle, the best work they can provide. There is nothing that could replace even one of those gifts. That cake probably took months to design, several dozen efforts to perfect. There is no replacing it.” His expression was grim.

“Wish I’d known that.” She felt a little sick. “I didn’t know.”

“I know you didn’t. It’s not your fault. But now, we’ve been brought before the Tribunal. There’s no arguing what was done, so we’ll have to pay the restitution.”

“You just said it can’t be replaced.”

“The cake can’t. Restitution is paid in something else.”

“Like what? It can’t be money or something?”

“Something far more precious, I’m afraid.” Whatever else she might have said, or he might have said, was cut off as the guards came back.

The pair of them were marched down a long hall and into another room.

The far wall held three chairs. The center one held a woman in a richly decorated outfit. The chairs on either side held men in less lavish but similar outfits.

The center of the chamber held a circle, inscribed upon the stone with some sort of metal. Two pillars, each over seven feet tall, stood on either side. It would have been interesting, like some sort of old Celtic monument, if it hadn’t been for the chains that were attached to each pillar.

The doors clanged shut behind them, and the woman spoke. “Why have you brought these two before this Tribunal?”

One of the guards stepped forward. “The girl desecrated the Sweet-Cake Seller’s offering. She dared to eat of it.”

The sharp, assessing gaze turned to Bill and the Doctor. “This is true?”

“It is.” The Doctor spoke. “However, Lady of the Light...” He bowed. “She acted only in ignorance. As her teacher, the fault is mine.”

The woman studied him. “Your speech is familiar.”

“Yes. I have come here before. Though not in this face.” He raised his hands to gesture to his body. “I am the Doctor.”

“The Doctor. Last of the Time Lords to walk the skies. Your name is known to us.”

“It generally is. Lady, I understand that restitution must be made, but...as I said, the girl is my student. It falls to me to have educated her, and clearly, I failed in my task. I ask that allowances be made for this.” He bowed again.

It was a bit like watching him with the Ice Queen, all over again.

The woman spoke to her two companions, then turned back to him. “Restitution must be made, but we will hear your request.”

The Doctor took a deep breath. Then he took three steps forward, into the edge of the circle. “I would ask that you allow me to pay the restitution in my student’s place.”

“You did not desecrate the offerings.”

“But her failing is mine, as her teacher and her guide.”

There was another round of muttering between the three on the dais. Then the woman nodded. “The exchange is allowed, if you truly wish it.”

The Doctor bent, unlaced his boots, then removed shoes and socks. He set them to one side, then strode into the center of the circle, barefoot. “I do.”

“As you will, Doctor.” The Lady gestured. “Prepare him.”

Two guards stepped forward, moving with measured, solemn steps into the circle. The Doctor lifted his hands, wrists facing upward. One of the guards undid his shirt and jacket cuffs, then unfastened the buttons on the front of the shirt. Once the shirt was untucked and undone, the guard stepped around and slid shirt and jacket off the Doctor’s shoulders, leaving him in his undershirt.

Bill felt her unease sharpen. “Hang on...what kind of restitution is this?”

The Doctor was in the midst of tugging his undershirt over his head, but the Lady answered. “Restitution is paid in blood.”

“What?” Bill surged forward, but the guards at her side caught her, held her in place. “Wait a mo...”

“It’s all right.” The Doctor finished removing his shirt, passing it to the guard who had collected his other items of clothing. “Don’t worry Bill. It’ll be fine.”

“The hell it will. Doctor...” She felt herself all but snarling the words.

He turned away. The first guard took the folded clothing out of the circle, across the room. The second guard led the Doctor to stand between the pillars, then lifted each of his wrists and locked them into the shackles. The Doctor made no resistance as he was chained in place, only setting his feet and lifting his chin as the guard stepped away.

He looked so vulnerable, so different, standing there barefoot and naked from the waist up, chained in between the pillars. He always looked thin and awkward, all sharp angles and bony limbs, but he seemed thinner, almost fragile. Older, stripped of his clothes and the air of authority he seemed to always carry with him. Bill bit her lip and swallowed hard against the tears that threatened to break free.

Two more men entered the circle. Bill felt her gut clench at the sight of the braided leather cord one man carried. The other carried a thin crystal tube and a round container, about the size of a grapefruit. A small amount of shimmering liquid sloshed in the container, but she couldn’t imagine what the items were for.

The second man stepped to one side. The first took up a stance behind the Doctor, uncurling the leather to reveal a short, braided whip with a shard of crystal or metal woven into the tip. Bill felt her stomach lurch.  _ No… _

The leather uncoiled. The man flexed his wrist and shoulder a few times, then glanced at the Tribunal.

The Lady looked at the Doctor with sad eyes. “Doctor...one last chance, I will give you, to choose differently.”

The Doctor squared his shoulders, hands flexing in his bonds. “Your offer is appreciated, but I must refuse. This is my choice, Lady. I am prepared.”

The Lady nodded. “Very well.” Her gaze met that of the man standing behind the Doctor. “Begin. An Innocent’s measure.”

Both men nodded, though what that meant, Bill had no idea.

The whip snapped out, so fast and sudden Bill jumped, and lashed against the Doctor’s bare back. Bill gasped and shoved her hands against her mouth to stifle a cry as the Doctor jerked in the chains, eyes snapping closed, jaw clenching hard.

A red line appeared on the Doctor’s back, blood welling from the long thin cut the shard had inflicted.

The second man stepped forward, thin tube positioned at an angle, the lower end inserted into the round container. With careful, precise movements, he laid the upper end of the tube against the lowest point of the raw gash in the Doctor’s back and slid it along the cut, gathering the blood that welled and letting it flow down the tube to fall into the container.

The Doctor made a sound, impossible to describe. His jaw clenched tighter, hands flexing desperately to wrap around the chains and clenching until his knuckles were white. Then he turned his head in an abrupt movement, turning his face into his far shoulder, hiding his expression from Bill’s view.

_ Restitution is paid in blood. _ They meant it literally. Bill felt like she was about to sick up. She forced the impulse down, unwilling to discover if making a mess in front of the Tribunal might result in further punishment. 

Blood collected, the second man stepped back, the first man forward.

Snap. A second gash, carving a path from the Doctor’s shoulder-blade to the center of his back.

Snap. Another cut, low along the small of his back. That caused a sharper flinch, a tightening of the Doctor’s hands.

Snap. This lash landed high across the shoulders, causing the Doctor to jerk his head, as if to pull his face away from the danger.

Snap. The blow landed across one of the previously inflicted wounds. The Doctor gasped, head snapping back. Pain was written clear on his thin features.

Snap. The lash cracked across the middle of his back, touching on two of the other wounds. The Doctor winced, teeth gritted in a grimace of pain. Sweat dotted his face, and his chest was heaving.

Bill’s stomach was roiling, her heart pounding. Her chest hurt, watching him endure the blows. Tears streaked her face, but she no longer cared about holding them back. Not when witnessing the screams he was so obviously suppressing. The cries he refused to give voice to.

Snap. An almost vertical slice down the line of his back just to the left of his spine. His back was so thin, it looked like it might be near impossible to avoid crossing the lines of other wounds with each blow. He actually shuddered as the second man collected his blood, arms straining against his bonds in his pain.

Snap. Snap. Snap. With each blow, a new slash appeared. The Doctor held firm, but she could see the white grip of his knuckles and the tremors of his shoulders. The way he flinched under each crack of the whip, and trembled with pain as the second man traced each new wound with the crystal tube. Perspiration slid down his temples, along the lines of his jaw and throat.

Snap. Snap. There were now a dozen gashes carved into the Doctor’s flesh, ugly red lines crisscrossing the pale skin. No blood dripped to stain his clothes or the untorn skin, but she wasn’t sure if that was something the man with the tube had done, or something to do with his weird biology.

The second man lifted the container, studying the contents. It was about half full, maybe a little over, the Doctor’s blood mixed with the shimmering liquid to create an iridescent ruby glow when the light hit it.

The man stepped forward, presenting the container with a bow. The Lady rose, stepped forward, and examined the vessel. After a long moment, she nodded.

The man withdrew the crystal tube, tapping it lightly to shake the last of the Doctor’s blood out of it before wrapping it in a soft cloth he pulled from a sleeve. Then he inserted a cap into the top of the vessel, sealing it, and carried it to a cushion Bill hadn’t noticed sitting on one side of the platform the Lady sat on. The crystal full of the Doctor’s blood was set reverently on the cushion, the whole thing lifted with a bow and carried through a door to one side.

The man holding the whip coiled it and withdrew, giving way to four guards who approached from different sides of the circle.

One set a stool, a heavy looking thing, on the ground, then turned and left. The other three came to the center of the circle, surrounding the Doctor. One man braced him, the others reached up and undid his shackles. Their movements were gentle, almost reverent, as they lowered the Doctor’s arms around their own shoulders and guided him to sit on the low bench.

The fourth returned with the Doctor’s clothing, including shoes and socks. He stepped into the circle, then knelt by the Doctor’s side, holding his clothing in his arms.

One man reached into the Doctor’s clothing and removed a small jar. He pulled the top free, scooping up some sort of paste or ointment. He began to apply the stuff to the Doctor’s back. The Doctor jerked, blinking. “What is this?”

“Honor given for a restitution paid with grace and courage.” One of the men of the Tribunal, who had been silent for the most part until then, answered.

“Ah. My gratitude for the honor you do me.” The Doctor dipped his head in acknowledgment, then settled into stillness while the salve was applied to the remainder of his wounds.

Once that was done, the jar was capped. The guard wiped his hands on a small scrap of cloth, then moved around to kneel and take the Doctor’s shoes. He helped the Doctor put on and lace up his boots, while the remaining two guards helped him into his undershirt, shirt and jacket. Once his shoes were on, he was assisted to his feet, his clothing smoothed into place, until he looked as immaculate as he had on their arrival.

Bills guards escorted her to meet him at the edge of the circle, then led them around the circle to stand in front of the Tribunal. The Lady rose, taking what looked like a golden pen from a slot in her chair. “Come forward, that you may be marked as Restored to the Light.”

The Doctor nudged Bill forward. She stumbled to a halt a few steps in front of the Lady, then stood still as the woman used the pen to draw some sort of symbol on her face. She was absurdly reminded of face painters at carnivals, and might have laughed if she hadn’t still been fighting her horror over what had been done to her mentor.

Once the Lady was done, she bowed, remembering the Doctor’s actions and figuring it couldn’t hurt, before backing up and letting him take her place. He moved forward far more gracefully than she had, and far easier than she thought his torn up back should have allowed. He stood still while his face was marked like hers. The Lady said something to him, to which he replied, but their voices were barely whispers, and Bill couldn’t hear what they said.

It was only after he’d stepped back with his own bow that the guards led them out of the chamber, and finally, out of the building.

Bill was shocked to find the square where the Celebration had been going on silent when they returned. In fact, not only was it dead silent, but it looked like the people there had been waiting for them or something. A shout went up as the guards led them in front of the altar and handed them off to the crowd, then a roar of something that sounded like...joy?

She looked to her mentor. “Doctor?”

“They know the restitution has been paid.” he tilted his head toward the table, and she sneaked a look. There, prominently in front, was a familiar container of iridescent red liquid. “And now they know it was paid willingly, and that we’re all right, that we’ve been Restored. They consider that a cause for celebration.”

“So they aren’t, like, mad at us or something?”

“Not any longer. The payment has been given, and they consider it over and done with at this point. Unless we are foolish enough to repeat our transgression...”

“Oh no.” Bill raised her hands defensively as they stepped back into the square. “I’m not touching anything you don’t touch first, not for as long as we’re here.”

“Fair enough.” The Doctor shrugged, then led her into the crowd.

They stayed for another hour, or that’s what it felt like, wandering the square. People kept stopping them, offering them smiles and handshakes and sometimes gifts of food or drink. Bill kept a wary eye on the Doctor, accepting what was offered to her only after he did.

She was just wondering if they could sneak away, or if she could ask to go home, when a gong sounded. Stalls immediately began to close up. The Doctor took her arm and led her quickly down the path, back towards where they’d left the TARDIS. “Come on.”

“What’s going on?”

“Ceremonies to greet the gods. Very long, very involved, easier for us if we get out of their way.”

“And they won’t be offended or anything?”

“No. Children and visitors are generally excused at this point anyway. We’d only make ourselves and everyone around us uncomfortable, trying to fumble along. I can teach you the whole thing inside the TARDIS later, if you’re interested.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Bill couldn’t think of anything that would interest her less as she followed him inside the ship, hanging back as he worked the controls to take them away, back to Earth, back to her own time and place. 

She found herself staring at his back while worked, wondering if it hurt. He hadn’t given any indication that it did, but then he wouldn’t necessarily, would he? He was a secretive old man.

She found herself stepping forward as the TARDIS hummed into motion and took off into the vortex. Staring at him, as though if she stared hard enough, she’d see through his clothes, or into his head.

The Doctor turned, to find her staring at him. “Bill? Everything all right?”

She crossed her arms. “Not sure. How’s your back?”

“Fine, fine, nothing to worry about.” He shrugged a shoulder, then winced. He tried to hide it, but she caught it anyway.

“Doesn’t look fine. Bet it hurts.”

“Nothing too serious.”

“Yeah, maybe I ought to be the judge of that.” She stepped around him quickly, then laid a hand across his shoulder. The Doctor flinched again. “Yeah. Probably should let me look at that.” She didn’t want to, but she did want to make sure he wasn’t suffering needlessly because of her.

“Bill...”

“Let me look at it or I’m telling Nardole you got hurt, and you can try to put him off.” She folded her arms again and fixed him with the stare she gave the occasional drunk idiot who wandered into the canteen. “Which would you like?”

He scowled. She ignored it. Finally, he sighed. “Fine. I suppose the TARDIS does have a better healing salve that could be applied, and I might need a little help with that.”

“That’s what I thought.” She nodded. “Lead on then.”

The medical bay was two doors down from the main control room, even though she hadn’t ever seen it there before. She chalked it up to one of those TARDIS mysteries with a shrug. The Doctor led her inside, then began rummaging in a cabinet. He emerged a moment later with a thin tube. like the ones toothpaste came in. “Here it is.”

She couldn’t read anything written on the tube, but she uncapped it anyway, trusting him to know what he was talking about. “Right...shirt off, and let me apply this.”

He blinked, looking for all the world like he hadn’t registered that he’d need to remove his clothing for her to help treat his back. “Perhaps Nardole should do this after all.”

“Too late. I’m here now. Might as well get it over with, you know.” She gave him a smile she didn’t feel at all. “Come on now, not like I haven’t seen it before. Seen worse too.” She smirked. “And better.”

He scowled, distracted by her poke at his vanity, and removed his coat, followed by his shirt and finally his undershirt. She was almost amused when he crossed his arms over his chest, like he was embarrassed.

“Right then.” She stepped around him, then looked around the room. “Could you, I dunno, sit down on something? You’re bloody tall.”

He huffed and snatched a chair to fling himself into, backwards so she could get to his back. “Satisfied?”

“Yeah.” The word came out much quieter than she’d intended.

Confronted with his bared back, she saw again the way he’d stripped down to take his place in the punishment circle, or restitution circle, or whatever it was called. His place in chains.

Not his place. Hers. The words slipped through her mind like ice. He’d taken her place in the chains, barefoot and vulnerable and waiting to be lashed.

_ He’s not barefoot. He’s not chained up either. Just, sitting down, waiting. It’s not happening again. _ She forced the words through her mind and stepped forward. 

The red rawness of the wounds had faded some, but they were still far too visible against his pale skin. Twelve long thin cuts, crisscrossing the narrow back at different angles, scabbed over and still painful looking.

Without thinking, she raised one hand and brushed it lightly across one of the lines. The scabbing was rough under her fingers, exactly like when she was cut. She wondered why she’d thought it would be different with him.

A tremor passed through his shoulders, and she realized her touch was probably uncomfortable for him. “Sorry. Just wanted to be sure it wasn’t still bleeding or anything like that.” That sounded like a reasonable excuse.

“Yes, of course. It’s fine.”

She uncapped the tube and squeezed a bit of salve onto her fingers. It tingled, a bit like the stuff one of her friends had used to numb a sunburn once. With any luck, that meant it would help. She took a breath, the applied it carefully to the uppermost of the cuts on his back. The line that cut across the top of his shoulders.

The Doctor shuddered under her hand. She jerked back. “Sorry, I know it hurts...”

“No, no. It’s fine, it was just cold and I wasn’t expecting it. It’s fine. Feels better already.”

Meaning he had been hurting before and he’d been trying to hide it from her. Bill bit her lip. On one hand, she wanted to yell at him, on the other...he’d just been trying to spare her.

“Right. Well. Best get on with it then...”

“Yes. Best get on with it.” he leaned a little harder into the chair.

She squeezed out another bit of salve and moved on to the next gash, working her way down his back. The Doctor remained still while she worked, but over his shoulder she could see the tight grip of his hands and the tension in his jaw.

She was causing him pain. Maybe she was helping in the long run, but her touch was hurting him. She had to grit her teeth to keep on working.

She didn’t realize she was crying until a tear escaped to splash down onto the Doctor’s bare skin. The Time Lord leaped like he’d been stabbed, whipping around and out of his chair with a fluid movement she wouldn’t have expected him to be capable of. “Bill? Are you all right?”

“Yeah. Yeah, fine.” She capped the tube and scrubbed hastily at her face. “Just...fumes or something must have got to me...”

“It’s odorless. And I’d smell it myself if it were strong enough to affect you.” Worry pulled the lines of his expression deeper as he looked her over. “The guards didn’t hurt you before I arrived, did they? They don’t usually, but every group has a few hotheads I suppose...”

“No. No, it’s nothing like that.” She shook her head. “Look, it’s just...” She swallowed hard, squashing the urge to sniffle like a child. “It’s just...you were hurt because of me.” The words came out trembling, more than she would have liked.

“No. I was hurt because of a choice I made. I have a duty of care, and I failed to provide you with adequate information. I am your teacher, I’m responsible for ensuring your safety by keeping you properly informed. Failing that, it is my responsibility to see that you suffer no harm for any misunderstandings.”

“So that’s it then? I’m supposed to be okay with the fact that your back’s in shreds because I decided to eat a dessert off a table without asking if it was okay?” She was starting to get oddly angry with him. “I’m supposed to be fine with the fact that you took my punishment, like I was some irresponsible kid?”

“I didn’t say that. I’m simply pointing out that, as your teacher, I am responsible for your welfare.” He sighed. “These things happen. You’ve been with me on other trips, you’ve seen how it works. Traveling the cosmos is dangerous.”

He must have seen something in her expression, because he stopped. Then he turned and picked up his discarded clothing. He eyed it for a moment, then grimaced and made his way to another door. He vanished, then returned moments later wearing a loose hooded shirt under his normal jacket. Bill gaped at him, and he gave her a sideways look. “It’s more comfortable. And I like this style.”

It did suit him, she thought, in an odd way. Or maybe that was the point. The combination of hoodie and suit jacket was as odd as he was, and that’s why it worked.

The Doctor led her out of the medical bay and back to the main console room. He checked their flight, then took a perch on a nearby rail, motioning her to join him. He waited until she found a comfortable place, then breathed in and began to speak.

“There’s something you have to understand, Bill, if we’re going to continue this...arrangement of ours. Traveling time and space is dangerous. Always has been, always will be. There are moments of beauty and wonder, better than anything you’ve ever imagined. Moments when people come together and do...extraordinary things. And then there re other moments. Terrifying moments. Painful moments. Horrible moments, sights you wish you could un-see, things that could give you nightmares.”

“I get that. I mean, that’s life in general, isn’t it?” Bill shifted.

“Yes. But more so on these adventures of ours. And what you have to understand Bill, what you have to be able to accept, is this.” He met her eyes with his own piercing stare, suddenly every inch the Time Lord and teacher. “I cannot protect everyone. If I try, I might very well lose everyone, and I won’t do that. Sometimes, I have to choose. But, no matter what, there are some choices I will always make. And one of those is that, when I choose a Companion, someone to travel with me, their welfare is the most important thing. More important than a stranger’s. More important than my own. If I have to choose between getting hurt and letting you get hurt, I will always choose the first. Always. That’s part of what it means, for me to be the Doctor.”

“And I’m supposed to be okay with that?” She was having trouble swallowing around the lump in her throat.

“No. You don’t have to be okay with that. You simply have to tell me if you can accept that. Can you accept that your welfare will always be my first priority?” With that he stood and returned to the TARDIS console, leaving her to her thoughts.

She thought about it for the remainder of their journey. And as the Doctor brought them in for a landing.

They exited the TARDIS, to find Nardole blustering about the office. “Really sir, going off again? What about your oath?”

“It’s not like I leave for an extended period of time. Back before you know it and all that.” The Doctor waved a dismissive hand.

“Not the point sir. You know you risk getting hurt every time you go off like this. What happens if you get hurt or killed, eh?”

And there was her answer. Bill grinned. “Hey, Nardole.”

He turned. “Yes?”

“You’re a bit right about that. He did get hurt this last time around. Messed up his back something awful. But you know how to treat that, yeah?” She ignored the Doctor’s outraged hissing.

“Of course. His late wife did teach me some things about first aid and all that.” Then what she’d said registered and he whipped back around. “Oi, is she telling the truth? You’ve been injured?”

“Minor injury. Nothing to worry about.” The Doctor glared at her.

“Tore up his back. Bunch of cuts.” Bill offered helpfully.

“So that’s why you’re wearing that outfit. Thought it was a bit outside your normal persona these days.” Nardole blustered and huffed, then crossed his arms. “I’ll be seeing to that as soon as Miss Bill leaves, sir, and don’t you try to get out of it.”

“It’s already been...”

Nardole cut him off. “I said, no trying to get out of it. I don’t care if you’ve had someone else look at it. Mrs. River Song charged me to look after you, and so I will, and never mind your nonsense.”

The Doctor scowled at him, then back at Bill. “I thought you said...”

“I said I’d definitely tell him if you didn’t let me take care of it. Never said I wouldn’t tell him if you did. And you did say he ought to have a look.”

“If you didn’t.”

“Doesn’t matter.” She shook her head, then stepped up, into his personal space. “See, you asked me a question while we were comin’ back, yeah? About what I could live with. And this is my answer.” She grinned at him. “I can live with you having my back, bein’ all stupid and self-sacrificing like you are, but...” She did a quick-step backward. “That’s because he’s got yours.” She flicked her head at Nardole. “If anyone can help keep you out of trouble, reckon it’s him.”

“Well, that’s a nice compliment.” Nardole sounded like he couldn’t decide if he was pleased by her assurance or put off by essentially being assigned as the Doctor’s minder again.

Bill gave him a quick smile, then grabbed up her bags. “See you next time. Happy New Years.” Then she ducked out, leaving the Doctor muttering indignantly and the rising sound of Nardole chiding him behind.

He’d not forgive her for that anytime soon. She could expect lots of long, boring essays in her future. But that was all right. It would give him time to recover. And it would give them both time to figure out the parameters for their next adventure.

She had a feeling she wasn’t the only one who’d learned a lesson from this little escapade. Pity she couldn’t assign an essay to him as well. But then, maybe Nardole would.

The thought made her smile all the way home.

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little idea I had. Because the Doctor is that type of person.  
> And yes, I do know that sometimes the Doctor has to let go of his Companion to protect the universe, I'm just saying that he feels this way, right now, even if he knows on some level that circumstances might work against him in the future.


End file.
